Aloha, Aloha
by Evil Cosmic Triplets
Summary: Spinelli wins a trip to Hawaii, snubbed by Maxie who has to work for Kate, he brings Jason. They meet up with none other than Magnum PI and Higgins. What ties these unlikely duos together?
1. Elegant Lady Madonna

**_A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece_**

Elegant Lady Madonna

"God damn it, Spinelli, you didn't say anything about sand. The stuff is in my socks, in my boots, it's crunching around down there and the boots are wet too, they're leather, Spinelli-Italian leather!" Jason had been grumbling and complaining like this for the last twenty minutes as they trudged down the beach toward Honolulu's famed King Kamehameha Club where they had a dinner invitation to meet with some notorious local mobster and close personal acquaintance of Michael, "Sonny," Corinthos.

"Stone Cold, you should have taken the Jackal's advice, unsolicited as it was, and forgone your normal working attire for the local business cum living the dolce vida wear. We are, after all," he stopped and stretched his arms out wide, face toward the sun, "in the Aloha state." He turned to Jason with a big goofy grin on his face.

Jason thought the young man looked comical and stuck out like a sore thumb in his bright green and black leaf-patterned aloha shirt with matching shorts which screamed out "tourist". It had taken him nearly a half an hour to glop sunscreen over the exposed portions of his skin and-much to Jason's mortification - Spinelli had an additional thick white mass of zinc oxide plastered on his nose. As if that weren't enough, he had also donned a straw colored sun hat and toted a small beach umbrella, having stated that, "One in every three tourists ends up with severe sunburn this time of year, some even being so compromised as to require hospitalization."

Spinelli stumbled in the sand, losing one of his flip-flops, known locally as slippers. Hopping on one foot, he went back to retrieve it as Jason watched with a grim look on his face. Spinelli, oblivious to his Master's half-hearted glare, procured the half-buried slipper and dusted it off, smiling to himself as he adjusted his sun hat so that the brim left the lower half of his face in shadow.

"Well, aren't there any sidewalks in the_ Aloha _state?" He grumbled querulously. "I thought when you asked me along on this all expense paid little jaunt that it would be a chance to rest on the beach, drink a beer, watch the sunset, maybe look at a few girls..." Here he turned and walked backwards for a few steps, his sunglasses, the one overt concession to the locale, pulled down on his nose as he admired some of the aforementioned local scenery. "Anyway, tromping miles to have dinner with someone named Ice Pick for Gods sakes isn't my idea of a relaxing vacation, it just seems like home. And at home," he ended his litany of complaints with irrefutable logic, "_This _is what I wear!"

"Ah, Stone Cold, the Jackal hears your sound reasoning and," Spinelli stopped suddenly, his jaw slack as he lost his train of thought. There, right before him, not ten yards away, was the most gorgeous woman he had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes upon, she was a veritable goddess among goddesses. She was a long-legged, bronzed beauty with ebony hair which cascaded in rivulets down her back. Clad in nothing more than a flaming red bikini and matching sarong, she held Spinelli's euphoric interest.

Jason followed his young protégé's line of sight and his bad temper miraculously disappeared, he fully appreciated the kid's taste. He had obviously been taking copious notes during his tutelage by the Master. He spontaneously whistled, startling both himself and Spinelli. The only one unaffected by the sound was the gorgeous recipient swathed in crimson swatches of fabric, she was far too inured to attracting males the way certain flowers attract bees. Besides, she was in a hurry, running really, because close behind her were two men also running and they weren't chasing her because of her myriad charms but rather in spite of them.

One of her ardent pursuers was dressed in a black suit and would have looked comical if it were not for the ambitiously committed way in which he made chase. Short and somewhat portly with a little moustache and a receding hairline, he made quite a spectacle on the beach, but appeared to be oblivious to the host of engaged onlookers. Single-minded in his aim, he never took his eyes off of the woman.

Valiant though his efforts, he was still trailing a much taller man, also sporting a moustache albeit of a much more luxuriant nature. Dressed in short shorts and a loud flowered aloha shirt, the spiritual twin to Spinelli's; he was almost upon the woman. The obliging spectators had parted to make way for the unlikely trio. Daring tourists even snapped a photo or two as they passed by them at full tilt.

The shorter man paused to catch his breath and yelled out to all and sundry in a clipped British accent, "Stop that absconding female, she's a thief!"

A couple of the tourists gasped in excited horror at the thought that, here they were, in Hawaii of all places, and they got to witness a real life crime. Wait until they got back home and told their co-workers. They'd even have a picture or two to illustrate the tale as they told of the great adventure. No one would believe it otherwise.

That commanding line was all which was needed to spur Jason into action as he stopped gaping and was instantaneously after the lithe, gazelle-like young woman; it was a pure pleasure to chase her. Already he found his liking for Hawaii to be improving.

Spinelli, having temporarily lost all senses save the one of fervent visual admiration, continued to gape in absolute wonder at the elegant beauty as she ran down the beach. She was all grace. Her ebony locks flowed in silky tendrils behind her. Her frantic flight registered, as though in frame-by-frame action, as the chase played out before his very eyes. It was clearly evident to his outraged and chivalrous eyes that the fair beach maiden was being chased by two evil doers, miscreants of a lesser nature. How dare they strive to visit damage upon her sacred person?

Spinelli, still enamored by her beauty had not heard a word the pursuers had uttered and acted on pure instinct. The ancient call of the hunt coursed in his veins. Intent upon protecting the fair maiden from her heinous stalker, he made to tackle the man in lead. Unmindful of any possible danger to himself, he threw off the cumbersome flip-flops and let go of the now burdensome umbrella and ran pell-mell toward her closest pursuant.

Magnum doggedly chased the petty thief, she had been making the rounds lately at beach front clubs and hotels and he had been hoping to get a lead on her. It was just his dumb luck that it happened to be Higgins' pocket that she picked this evening. He'd never hear the end of it. No doubt the uptight British man would blame him for it, even though, in all honesty, it was not his fault. In Higgins' eyes everything seemed to fall under the auspices of "if there's a problem-blame Magnum".

Groaning, he pushed himself to go faster as his lungs burned, damn, she could run fast! If he hadn't been chasing her for the past ten minutes, he might have taken a moment or two to admire how athletic she was. Yes, if he weren't in hot pursuit of the lithesome pickpocket, he would have time to appreciate just how tan her shapely calves were and how the red suit she wore complimented the tone of her skin perfectly and just how pert her…

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a young floppy-haired man cut in front of him. Having veered toward the waterline to take advantage of the speed engendered by running on the wet packed sand, he had almost caught up with the wayward thief, could almost reach out and touch her…

The collision was inevitable. Magnum attempted to stop himself, but his momentum kept him moving forward. Physics, as Spinelli could have told him, was an unyielding mistress who must be obeyed in all things. Either way, it was a mess and Magnum's pursuit was cut short as they went down in a winded tangle of arms and legs. The only way to tell which was which was by the color of their respective shirts, Magnum's a bright red and blue contrasting with Spinelli's green and black.

Waves rolled over the two men, causing them to sputter and cough. Neither could see clearly through the blinding saltwater. Magnum attempted to disentangle himself from the human barricade, but the crashing waves made it impossible for him to regain his balance. Sputtering, Magnum glared at the young man who had intentionally waylaid him. Loathe as he was to admit it, he was temporarily out of the chase.

The only two left to continue the urgent hunt were Jason and the older British man who sent a disgusted glance and a muttered, "Really, Magnum!" towards the mélange of inseparable body parts that was rolling around haplessly in the surf.

Jason hated to do it, he really did, he bowed to no one in his admiration of a beautiful woman and this one was stacked! Still, he couldn't condone petty thievery; grand larceny perhaps, but pick pockets and muggers, no way. He sped up, intent upon catching this exotically lovely thief. Truth be admitted, he was enjoying every moment of the adrenaline pumping pursuit.

"Cease and Desist, your malevolent designs on the beauteous maiden," or at least that's what Spinelli would've said if he hadn't gotten a sandy mouthful of the Pacific at that precise moment. As it was, it came out more like, "Gurgle, gargle."

"Great, just great," Magnum muttered as he attempted to help the young man to a standing position. Both boy and current were fighting him. With his luck the kid would drown. He didn't want that on his conscience, much as the boy's inept actions had interrupted his work.

"The murderous malefactor should keep his hands off the Jackal or he shall know true retribution at the stern hands of Stone Cold himself!" Spinelli attempted once more, only to cough up a lungful of briny water. This time he managed to enunciate each syllable but it was all still just, "Gurgle, gargle," to an indignant and disgusted Magnum.

"Just hold still!" Magnum shouted impatiently at the floppy-haired young man whose sun hat was dangling at an awkward angle from the knot around his chin. The boy reminded him of a puppy, all loose limbs and no control over them. It would've been comical had the situation been one he merely had borne witness to rather than being a full fledged participant.

"Look kid, hold still," Magnum tried once again, "I'm trying to help you here, you plowed into me remember!"

"As was my distinct intention, sir. Did you think I would let you get your rather large..." for the first time Spinelli had noted the size of the man he had unthinkingly taken on in hand-to-hand combat for the honor of the fair maiden. He gulped and continued unsteadily, "um hands on such a sweet, undeserving personage as yonder fair one?" He turned to point towards where he assumed the desirous one would be beaming at him, her hands clasped appreciatively at her waist as she gushed, "My hero!" whilst batting her eyelashes charmingly.

Instead what met his startled gaze was the sight of his hero and mentor tackling, in a very rough manner, with absolutely no regard to her tender gender, the self-same doe-like creature that Spinelli had been intent upon rescuing from this ruffian who kept denying his culpability.

"Look kid, you've got it all wrong," Magnum helped the boy to his feet, sighing in relief when he didn't resist the offer of aid. "That 'yonder maiden' is none other than the elegant," he bowed in her oblivious direction, water dripping from his moustache, "thieving, Lady Madonna, I've been after her for the past month. She's been pick pocketing tourists, businessmen and women and, no thanks to you, I lost her." Grasping the boy by the elbow, he marched them out of the water back onto the beach.

"Never fear, Stone Cold has once again in his ever honorable conduct, procured said feminine miscreant, the thieving Lady Madonna," bowing his head, Spinelli tiredly swept an arm toward the beach where Jason had tackled the apparent thief.

"Gotcha!" Jason said with a triumphant grin as the bikini clad beauty twisted and wriggled in his grip, her long scarlet talons inches from his face as she tried to rake them viciously across his skin with particular aim towards his eyes. "Yep," He thought happily, "Hawaii _was _looking up."

"My good man, "the British gent finally arrived, bent over and clasping his knees as he panted out his speech of gratitude, "My undying gratitude is yours for stopping this...this she-devil." It was clear the lissome beauty could expect no quarter for her questionable charms from this particular ex-Regimental Sergeant Major late of the Queen's service.

Suddenly Spinelli and Magnum were there, the latter delighted to see the downfall of the thief so that Higgins could do no worse than task him with dereliction of duty; it would have been much, much worse had she escaped. The former was entirely puzzled and still unsure as to why everyone was so intent upon treating this treasure, this lovely nymph like a common criminal, in spite of what the rough man beside him had said, that is until he got a good look at her face twisted and contorted with rage and hate.

"Stone Cold," he said uncertainly realizing with a pang of misery, that he had once again gotten the wrong end of the stick and because of him she had almost gotten away.

Jason hauled the trapped villainess to her feet; she was hissing and clawing at any one of the men who was silly enough to get within her reach. Almost absentmindedly, Jason grabbed both her wrists in one of his hands, acting like a human pair of handcuffs.

Magnum reached around Jason and delved without fanfare into the sarong wrapped alluringly around the brigand babe's diminutive waist. Pulling out the lumpy wallet she had stored there, he turned to Higgins, "Yours, I believe," he murmured restoring it to Higgins' awaiting hands.

"No thanks to you, Magnum," Higgins said sharply, "You were taken down by this snip of a boy here." At his off-handed reference to him, Spinelli flushed unhappily, turning a bright red in spite of his ample application of sunscreen earlier that morning.

"If it hadn't been for this man's timely intervention, Mister..." he cocked his head interrogatively at Jason.

"Um, Morgan, Jason Morgan, you can just call me Jason and it wasn't anything really, just instinct," Jason shrugged it off.

"Yes, well Magnum could take a few lessons on honing his instincts it seems to me," he groused, not yet mollified.

"Give it a rest, Higgins," Magnum said, a faint whine in his tone, "You've got your wallet back and as they say 'all's well that ends well'"

"You're a fan of the bard?" Spinelli said eagerly, thinking perhaps he had found a fellow culture lover. He looked at the man he had hastily and, it appeared unjustly, deemed a ruffian in a new light, a faint smile on his lips.

Higgins guffawed at Magnum's puzzled expression, "Hardly, it's probably the slogan of some local strip joint he frequents..."

Jason sniggered quietly as Magnum's eyebrows fused together and he looked at Higgins through narrowed eyes, "Cut it out, Higgins, they're going to get the wrong idea here."

Magnum turned towards Jason and extended his hand which Jason clasped in the one that wasn't holding onto the wrists of the thwarted thief, still squirming in his grasp.

"Thomas Magnum," he flashed a dimpled smile at the blonde-haired, crew cut man who had captured the thief that had been eluding the police for the past three months. Much more wounding to his self-esteem was the fact that it had taken him over a month on the job to get even as close to catching her as he had today. Oh, well, he supposed that he would treat this particular case as a game of horseshoes and count 'close' as good enough. "While this self-righteous gentleman over here is Higgins-Jonathan Quayle Higgins to be more precise," he grinned impishly as he cocked his head in the man's direction.

Then he turned his attention towards Spinelli, grin still firmly in place, his white teeth contrasting blindingly with his luxuriant moustache and tawny skin, "Who are you kid, a contender for the WWF?"

Spinelli grinned shyly, liking this man that could be so forgiving about being tackled because he thought he was a mugger or something worse, "Not a wrestler, just Stone Cold's protégé and tech support, Spinelli, Damian Spinelli..."

"Stone Cold," Magnum said, turning to look quizzically at Jason, who stared back at him unperturbed, "interesting nickname, fellow."

Higgins had been looking through his wallet, checking to see if all the cash and cards were intact, "Damn it!" It slipped out of his grasp, covered as it was in suntan lotion transferred from the shapely thief's behind.

It fell into the sand at Spinelli's feet and, hoping to somewhat redeem himself; he bent down to retrieve it. It had splayed open and a dislodged photograph fell out, sticking into the sand at an odd angle.

He returned the wallet to Higgins and, bending over once more, picked up the picture and looked at it while dusting it off. Bringing the photograph up, he held it in the light of the sun and let out a shaky breath as the image on it became clearer. His hands grew clammy and he stumbled forward as his face drained entirely of blood. His eyes rolled back into his head and he keeled over in a dead faint, falling flat on his back in the burning sand.

"Hey, kid," Magnum was on his knees next to the recumbent form, shaking him gently. Tapping him on the cheek, he attempted to rouse him, "C'mon, wake up."

"Oh, I say," Higgins stepped forward, mildly anxious as he looked down at the boy who still grasped the displaced photograph in a bone white hand.

Jason yelled, "Spinelli!" Entirely forgetting his prisoner, she took advantage of his distracted state and pulled free of his loosened grip, sprinting off at a dead run with no one in pursuit. At liberty once again to steal another day, she chanced one quick look back at the four men who had hounded her and silently thanked the awkward youngster who had unwittingly been her savior.

_**A/N Reviews and perceptions are appreciated**_


	2. Orange Soda and War I

**_A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece_**

Chapter 2: Orange Soda and War I

"Spinelli!" Jason was speaking with anxiety as he urged the young man to wake up. He had unceremoniously pushed himself in between Magnum and the unconscious boy. He lifted Spinelli's head gently and placed it in his lap as he bent over him in concern and with the additional intent of blocking the slanting sun's glare from his face. "You need to wake up…that's right…" He said, a rare smile coming to the fore as Spinelli's eyes fluttered vaguely open.

Magnum was standing next to Higgins as they split their combined focus between regretful glances at the now distant-though still lovely-fleeing behind of the Lady Madonna and worried looks at the slowly awakening young man lying in the sand at their feet. Magnum looked at the picture still clutched in Spinelli's hand and with a meaningful tilt towards the photograph sent a questioning look at Higgins. The major domo simply stared back at Magnum, his face an inscrutable mask that explained why he did so well in their Saturday night poker sessions.

"Sto…Stone Cold," Spinelli was disoriented, unsure of what he was doing lying in the sand, his head in Jason's lap while two strangers stared down at him intently. "Did…something happen? Did the Jackal cause a disruption?" As usual he assumed the blame for any set of circumstances, even those he didn't fully comprehend. He struggled to sit up but he fell back down, his head spinning with the effort.

"No…no, just stay still, Spinelli!" Jason commanded him, his voice rough with relief. "You didn't do anything except faint. How do you feel?"

All of sudden, Jason hated everything around him-the sand, the ocean, these two men that had entangled them in their chase and by extension-their lives. He was in an alien environment where Spinelli had fainted and he don't know if he was okay or ill and if it were the latter, then he wasn't sure what to do, where to go as he would be if this were Port Charles.

This time Spinelli, against Jason's better judgment, managed to sit up. "How did the Jackal manage to find himself in this current water-logged state?" He asked in wonderment as he looked down at his soaking wet, brightly patterned outfit.

"Don't you remember, kid?" Magnum had crouched down next to Spinelli and was looking directly into his lost sea green eyes. Something about their intrinsic naiveté and innocence resonated within him and he felt an unexpectedly fierce feeling of protectiveness engulf him. The kid reminded him of himself, well before he had been engaged in warfare and come to learn certain bitter truths about the world.

He spared a glance at Jason and saw his own expression mirrored in the grim planes of his face. "You intentionally tripped me up in the surf. Look," he twisted the tail ends of his own Aloha shirt, producing a dribble of water. "See, I'm all wet too…" He gave the boy the full force of his patented Magnum dimpled smile and received a shy, uncertain little glimmer of a grin in return.

Recognition dawned in Spinelli's face and he looked around the assemblage noting that there was one lovely, albeit deceptive, individual missing. "Where's the Lady Madonna?" He asked in puzzlement, twisting his body toward Jason. "Stone Cold, you had her in your steely grasp. Perforce why ever did you release her?" Then he groaned as he realized what must have happened. "Then her unhappy vanishing is indeed the fault of the Jackal. You let her go when I pusillanimously collapsed…" He looked down at the sand miserably. He clasped his arms around his legs, unable to meet the eyes of any of the three men surrounding him. Ashamed that his weakness had cost them their long sought prize, he chastised himself for his unmanly show of 'fainting'.

"Spinelli," Jason reached out a hand and put it on his shoulder, there was a twitch as he made contact but the boy didn't raise his head to look at his mentor. "You can't help fainting; it's not your fault. I don't care about that woman…thief whatever. I just was worried about you." "Still am," he amended to himself as he kept his hand where it was and wished he were built differently so that he were able to offer some more substantial form of comfort.

"Yes, lad," Higgins was speaking for the first time since Spinelli had fainted. "It isn't a sign of any kind of weakness to faint. Why I remember once when I was on patrol in North Africa…"

"Higgins!" Magnum groaned, cutting sharply across the older man's reminiscence. He knew they would never be able to stop him once he started. "Spinelli can hear your story later. Right now I think it's important to get him up off the sand and decide what to do next." He suited his actions to his words, standing up and reaching both hands down to Spinelli he helped pull him up to an upright position, Jason supporting the boy's back as he came to a shaky stance.

"Quite," Higgins murmured as he stepped forward to assist the pale young man who was swaying as he tried to readjust to the change in stance and the sudden redistribution of blood throughout his body. Before he could wrap an arm around Spinelli's waist his position was usurped by Jason who sent him a glowering look that clearly indicated Higgins should back off.

"When was the last time you ate anything, kid?" Magnum asked, ignoring Jason and peering intently at Spinelli's pinched and pallid face, noting the dark rings under his eyes.

"We had breakfast didn't we Stone Cold?" He turned to the taciturn, frowning blonde man for confirmation. "In Port Charles," he added for additional clarification.

"Port Charles, where's that?" Magnum asked trying to place the city on the mainland, he hadn't heard of it.

"Port Charles…Port Charles…" Higgins was ruminating to himself. Suddenly he jerked his head up and looked at Jason accusingly. "Do you mean to say the last time you and this young man had a meal was this morning in New York?" He was incredulous as he did the math, there was at least a six hour time difference and then with travel added in…

Jason actually had the grace to look abashed as he nodded his head. "Yeah, we both slept on the flights and then I didn't think…"

Magnum and Higgins were each taken aback as Spinelli suddenly looked at both of them with spirit, his eyes flashing. "It's not Stone Cold's fault! He always…always," through the repetition he made his loyalty clear," looks out for his grasshopper. To speak against Stone Cold is to speak against the Jackal." The efficacy of his adamant declaration was somewhat compromised as he again due to his fatigue and hunger lost his balance and Jason caught him and held him upright, a tiny, tight smile of pride hovering over his features.

"Okay, okay, take it easy kid," Magnum held his hands up in a gesture of appeasement. "I'm sure that…uh…Stone Cold, Jason, here takes real good care of you. Still, it doesn't alter the fact that you probably fainted because of the sun and the running and not having any food in you. So, let's fix that problem."

Appeased, Spinelli's plain but strangely engaging face lit up once again as he smiled at Magnum's straightforward speech, "The Jackal would not be averse to the opportunity to partake of some sustenance with his Master and his newfound acquaintances. Much chagrined as he is to have cost them their honest quarry."

Jason broke in, "Actually, we were on our way to the King Kamehameha Club to meet a friend of a friend for dinner before," he gestured vaguely in the direction his lovely erstwhile prisoner had fled, "we were sidetracked."

"Excellent," Higgins interjected, he didn't know why but he wasn't ready just yet to let these two escape his orbit. There was something in particular about the younger man that quite intrigued him and he thought there might be hidden depths to his much less open companion as well. "For that is where we were when this little contretemps occurred and the chase began." He waved his wallet slightly as a visual aid to the event he was referencing. "What say we all walk that way together and thereby make sure that young Spinelli here meets with no further mishap."

Spinelli blushed, hating to be the center of undesired attention, especially this particular notice which-as it always seemed to be-was focused on some innate weakness of his. Stone Cold had also gone hours without eating but did he trip up the wrong man and then ignominiously faint? No, he pursued the felon, the wrong doer and successfully caught her only to lose her moments later due to the Jackal's inability to man up.

"The Jackal does not wish to cause any further trouble to his fellow wayfarers," he mumbled as he stepped away from Jason's supporting arm, determined to literally stand on his own two feet. The uneven sand, however, contrived to trip him up once again, but he managed to right himself without the aid of a watchful Jason.

"What trouble, kid?" Magnum said lightly, seeking to defuse the situation that had somehow become emotionally charged. "As Higgins said, we have to go back anyway and we might as well go together and make sure you find it okay. Anyway, I don't know about you, but I'd like to get out of these wet clothes." He looked at Spinelli's build with a critical eye. "It looks to me like my friend Ric should have something to fit you. You look about the same size. He manages the King Kamehameha." By now Magnum was simply rambling, and it worked. Both Spinelli and Jason had relaxed and relinquished their hard held respective grasps on embarrassment and suspicion.

"Okay, sounds good, thanks," Jason said grudgingly. He didn't mind having someone local around to help with Spinelli if it were needed. He knew his friend trusted too easily and while he thought there might be some secrets embedded here, he didn't sense anything but genuine goodwill and a desire to help emanating from the two men. "You should return that picture to Mr. Higgins," he added gently, as he pointed to the photograph still tightly clutched in Spinelli's left hand.

"Oh, of course," he hadn't really forgotten the photo; he had just pushed it temporarily out of his consciousness. He raised his arm, it felt leaden with denial, and reluctantly, with a last longing look at woman encased within, handed the photograph back to Higgins. He swallowed and said, "The Jackal fervently hopes he hasn't damaged the memento…"

"Not at all," Higgins said heartily as he gave a little tug to get Spinelli to relinquish the photograph. He momentarily thought of letting the boy keep it, but with an internal pang of self condemnation realized that he wasn't quite ready to be that selfless or noble to someone, who for all intents and purposes, was still a stranger, no matter how much he didn't seem to be. "I appreciate your rescuing it." The transaction was complete and they exchanged small polite smiles that belied the currents which pulsed between them.

"Okay, that's settled then," Magnum said brightly, sounding bizarrely like a cruise director with a dazzling smile to match. He swung Spinelli around and proceeded to brush the sand, a souvenir from his recent recumbent sojourn, off his back. "Let's go kid. We'll let the two heroes discuss their victory while you can answer some questions of mine." He slung his arm affectionately across the much slighter and shorter young man's shoulders and his voice drifted back to Jason and Higgins. "Some interesting names you use there kid-Stone Cold, Jackal, Grasshopper, Master…Tell me about 'em…"

Higgins sighed theatrically as he smiled apologetically at Jason, "Magnum is something of an unstoppable force but I assure you he is a good man, one of the best I have ever known actually. Just don't breathe a word of it to him," he speared Jason with a piercing look of camaraderie, "Your young friend is in good hands there."

"Spinelli certainly has taken to him as well," Jason wasn't sure how he felt about that development.

There was an unfamiliar sensation in his heart, he didn't know exactly what to call it, but as much as he could tell, Magnum did genuinely seem to like Spinelli. Jason just didn't appreciate how readily Spinelli had responded to him. He didn't like seeing that same devotional shine in his eyes usually reserved for his self-proclaimed Master when he looked up at the big man with the flashing smile. The look which said he could do no wrong. That particular look was supposed to be reserved solely for Jason Morgan and it certainly wasn't meant to be egregiously transferred to some beach bum in an overly loud shirt, Aloha state or not.

As they followed the two in the lead, Higgins scrutinized the play of emotions over Jason's face as he watched Spinelli and Magnum. There was irritation, jealously and even pain visible. They wouldn't have been obvious to anyone else, but Higgins was an expert at reading body language and Jason's narrowed eyes, clenched fists and angry sand kicking stride spoke volumes to his observant companion.

Yet it was Higgins who was caught off guard when Jason looked at him and asked in a calm, conversational tone, "Mind telling me who the woman in that photograph is?"

Spinelli ducked his head as Magnum asked his cheerful question about the names. He wished his eccentricities hadn't so quickly caught the notice of this large exuberant man for whom he had developed an instantaneous liking. He sighed to himself; it was always a crapshoot whether or not people accepted him for who he really was. That was why the approbation of Stone Cold and Maximista was so important to him, secondary only to the air he breathed.

"I give people appellations…um nicknames, I don't even think about it. Jason is Stone Cold and the Master for all he has taught and continues to teach me. I myself am the Jackal and the grasshopper to his Master, his acolyte in all things," Spinelli waited with bated breath for guffaws of laughter or a confused look of incomprehension or just the deadening effect of an astonished, "I see…" when that was the farthest thing from the truth.

None of that happened, instead Magnum's reaction was entirely unexpected, "I like it! You've got style or is that panache?" He responded enthusiastically as he gave Spinelli a look of the utmost curiosity. "What nickname, err… appellation comes to mind for me?" He waggled his eyebrows expressively as he waited eagerly for Spinelli's response.

"Um," Spinelli was startled, he couldn't remember anyone actually coming to him and _asking _for one of his sobriquets, most people found the habit irritating or only tolerated it at best. "It isn't something that I do with forethought or upon request. It is an identifier that comes to mind after I have noted and internalized the particular character traits exhibited by a given individual."

"I get it," Magnum's interest was entirely unabashed as he absorbed what Spinelli had said. "You need to observe the person, know something about them before giving them the perfect nickname. You're a damn good judge of character kid, I gotta tell ya, 'Stone Cold' for that guy back there," he gestured with his thumb over his shoulder towards Higgins and Jason trudging in the sand behind them, "As far I can tell, it's dead on!" He beamed with full-fledged approbation at the insight demonstrated by his brand new friend.

Higgins was taken aback by Jason's forthright inquiry, the fact that he had just bluntly inquired into something so intensely personal. Not even Magnum, ill-behaved lout that he often was, had ever trespassed so blatantly into Higgins' privacy. Still, he knew why the question had been posed, it wasn't about Jason's curiosity. Higgins sensed that unlike most people this silent, stalwart man walking next to him possessed none. No, he had asked the question out of concern and more than that-out of a sense of fear. Each of the three men knew without a doubt that it was the photograph and nothing else-not fatigue, not hunger, not heat stroke-which had precipitated Spinelli's fainting spell.

They had let the boy have his subterfuge, each for their own reasons. Magnum, Higgins knew, had chosen the path of least resistance. He was intending to use his not inconsiderable charms to get the boy to trust him and eventually open up to him about his connection with the picture. Higgins knew he was doing it for all the right reasons-or at least mostly. He had taken to the boy and wanted to make sure that he was all right. Then again he knew the picture had come from Higgins' wallet and, as much as they fought and bickered like some old married couple, Magnum had Higgins' back when it mattered and vice-versa.

Magnum was smart enough to know that Jason's straightforward approach, a direct question, would be met by Higgins' formidable imperviousness. He would only reap a sneer of reproach or a raised eyebrow indicating his distaste for Magnum's lack of manners and a silent underlining of his inability to traverse the moat he had created around his thoughts and feelings, at least when the drawbridge was up and securely latched. No, Magnum knew better. Instead, he was going to enter the castle with the scullery boy, through the agency of that enigmatic young man. It was Spinelli who was the true Sphinx. It was he who already had somehow managed to entwine himself in Higgins' thoughts and what was even worse-his heart, who held the key to the mystery currently afoot.

Higgins knew he had more information than either Jason or Magnum. The woman in the picture was known to him, was part of his colorful and scattered past. Truth be told, hers was the _only _photograph to be given the privilege of being carried on his person and that meant something, in reality it meant everything. Yet, Higgins had a chink to his armor, he wasn't omnipotent and he craved information every bit as much as Jason and Magnum did.

He desperately needed to know more about the gangly boy with the thick, untamable brown hair, the pellucid sea green eyes and a heart which openly sought truth and justice. His was a soul that ran pure as a crystalline river. Anyone could see those qualities in him if they but took the time to look upon encountering him. Magnum certainly had, Higgins couldn't remember the last time he had seen his friend so completely and immediately disarmed by someone.

Then there was the enigmatic Jason Morgan, the most unlikely companion to such a boy as could be envisioned. Yet, here he was foursquare and evident. It was clear that were someone to come after the lad in any way, be it harsh words, be it intent to harm, they would have to go through this man, this self-appointed guardian who took to his task with a grim tenacity underlain by the vulnerability that only love could bestow.

So, Higgins was facing a conundrum. He didn't wish to share personal information with a complete stranger, someone whose eyes were so guarded and a demeanor which spoke of untapped ruthlessness. Yet, if he were to learn more about the boy, if it might be possible that they were indeed connected in a way that Higgins had still to even think of labeling in the deepest recesses of his mind, he knew it was imperative that he gain the trust, the confidence of Jason Morgan. For he knew instinctively, if Jason were to deem that the boy was in any kind of danger he would remove him posthaste and Higgins would never again see him, never find out if his suspicions were founded or otherwise. Higgins quailed internally as he watched the two men ambling on ahead, deep in conversation. If what he thought turned out to be true, then God help them all because Spinelli would indeed be in danger, a threat would loom over him that all his guardians might be powerless to thwart.

All through Higgins' internal ruminations, Jason hadn't spoken a single word beyond the question he had asked. He was capable of waiting patiently while Higgins weighed the pros and cons of answering. Still, if a satisfactory answer wasn't forthcoming, then he would bide his time through dinner and by tomorrow he and Spinelli would be gone-free trip or no. He'd make it up to the kid, maybe they could go to Tahiti or to the Caribbean, anywhere that wasn't Hawaii. Jason looked up at the duo in front of them and frowned unconsciously, every instinct he possessed was telling him there was danger for Spinelli here and that wasn't acceptable. He just didn't know how to counter a danger he couldn't put a name to.

"She was someone from my past, someone I knew a long while ago," Higgins' voice broke Jason's train of thought and took him by surprise. So much time had passed that Jason had given up on receiving a response at all.

"She was important to you," spoken gruffly, it was a statement rather than a question. He was prodding Higgins, trying to elicit more information from him.

"Yes," Higgins answered without further embellishment.

"So, why did Spinelli react that way when he saw her picture?" Jason wasn't asking Higgins, he was simply musing aloud, but his companion's heart sank at the words.

"I thought you would know. You seem so close to the boy," it was his turn to prompt, to gather more intelligence so he knew what to do, what plan of action to formulate.

"No," Jason's frustration was clear to Higgins as he ran both his hands through his hair in an effort to vent his feelings. "And I'll tell you what," he added despondently, "If that one," he jerked his chin towards Spinelli, "Doesn't want us to know then we won't. He's as stubborn as they come." Both men subsided into a gloomy silence.

Spinelli came running back towards them, "Stone Cold," he called out, his eyes shining and his hair flopping, he slowed his ungainly stride as he drew near them. "We're here at the King Kamehameha Club! Guess what Magnum said," he waved towards the tall man who was off speaking with a short blonde man and an imposing black man. Magnum responded to Spinelli with a wave of his own. "He said he's a private investigator, Stone Cold, imagine! You know well the Jackal's proclivities in that direction… Anyway," he was almost breathless from exertion and excitement, "The Diligent Detective said he would show me the tricks of the trade. Imagine, Stone Cold, the Jackal being taken under the wing of such an Intrepid Investigator!" Magnum had indeed achieved a worthy status, being the proud recipient of not one but two of Spinelli's patented nicknames.

Jason responded to Spinelli's boundless enthusiasm with a repressive, "We'll see," while he directed a disgruntled scowl in Magnum's direction.

Higgins gave a disparaging snort as he rolled his eyes and scornfully repeated Spinelli's designation, "Intrepid Investigator indeed!"

Magnum had detached himself from the two men he had been conversing with and had arrived in time to hear both men's less than delighted reactions to Spinelli's news. He shrugged noncommittally in Jason's direction while he lowered his left eyelid in a deliberate wink directed towards Higgins' glowering countenance.

"Hey, does that mean I have a Spinelli name now?" He grinned conspiratorially down at the young man standing next to him, ignoring what sounded remarkably like a growl emanating from Jason's tightly pursed lips. "How cool is that! You'll have to come up with one for Higgins next." He couldn't seem to resist pushing a stick into the already aroused tiger's cage.

Spinelli smiled uncertainly at Higgins, "The dignified one has no need of the Jackal's additional cognomens. He feels that Mr. Higgins is entire unto himself."

Higgins looked gravely at the young man for a moment before replying, "I think it might be both quite an honor and illuminating to hear what 'cognomen' young Spinelli might eventually think of to apply to me." Something about this young man and his proficiency at giving all in his path a worthy appellation to suit them appealed to him and he did not wish to be left out of it, like some ill-regarded stuffed shirt.

Both Magnum and Jason had been listening to the exchange between the younger and older man with close interest. When it seemed they had reached an awkward impasse with nothing further to say at the moment, Magnum broke the silence. He nudged Spinelli, saying, "C'mon kid, I have good news on two accounts. My friend Ric says he can fit you up with some dry clothes and the restaurant does indeed carry your favorite brand of orange soda."

Spinelli's delighted grin threatened to crack his face in two. "Stone Cold!" As he did whenever he was happy, troubled or anywhere in-between, he turned first to his mentor to share his feelings, "They have nectar of the Gods in this very location. The Jackal was afeared he might have to go without for the duration of the vacation, a sad plight indeed! Did you think when we started out on our trek this day that we would meet with such amicable and fortuitous friends?"

His gesture of inclusion looked alarmingly like he might be thinking of attempting a group hug and Magnum tactfully stepped in to prevent such an unwise outcome. "Let's go Spinelli, we'll let the fuddy duddies catch up in their own time." He steered the younger man away, smiling at the unsuccessfully quelled spurt of laughter that escaped Spinelli's lips at the idea of anyone referring to Jason as a fuddy duddy.

With a resigned sigh and an almost imperceptible grimace, Jason started forward following Spinelli and Magnum into the club's beach entrance, Higgins at his side. For now the two men were tied together, bonded with each other and Magnum by their common concern for Spinelli who was oblivious to the apprehension he engendered in his three companions.

_**A/N Reviews and perceptions are appreciated**_


	3. War and Orange Soda II

**_A/N: I have no rights or affiliation with the characters presented within this piece_**

**Since June 11 is King Kamehameha Day in Hawaii, we thought it only right to celebrate with an update for this particular fiction set in that lovely state with it's sunkissed beaches, surf that rolls gently or roars with awesome power and a welcoming spirit all encompassed by one iconic word-'Aloha'. Happy reading!**

Orange Soda and War II

It took Jason's eyes a moment to adjust to the change in light between the exterior beach glare and the cool dimness of the King Kamehameha Club. As soon as he could see his surroundings, he scanned the area for Spinelli but the telltale swatch of messy black hair which bespoke of his anomalous friend was nowhere to be seen.

Where the hell had he gone now? He was just getting ready to stride off in a random direction to search for him; he didn't feel comfortable with him out of his line of sight in these unfamiliar surroundings, when Higgins placed a restraining arm on his shoulder. It was difficult for Jason not to shake off the older man's preventive hand in anger, but he held himself back in deference to the man's heretofore display of good manners.

"It's quite all right Jason. He's with Magnum and Rick, safe as houses here. They have undoubtedly just gone into Rick's quarters to effect a change of clothing," he had made his voice as soothing and non-inflected as he could but all he got in return for his trouble was a baleful look and an unintelligible grunt of dissatisfaction. 'Really, the man was most difficult,' Higgins thought in exasperation, 'as if any of them would harm the lad in any way. It was absolutely preposterous!'

"You must relax," he continued, trying to get Jason to move with him toward the bar. "After all, it was my understanding that you and the boy were here on vacation. It has hardly been restful thus far from what I have ascertained."

Jason allowed his clenched jaw to relax a mere millimeter, "Spinelli's idea, this trip." Finally, Jason, a virtual paragon of succinct communication, was talking as he moved grudgingly in step with Higgins. All the while his eyes were roving, examining every inch of the club as he earmarked suspicious nooks and crannies, strategically placed exits and most of all strained to see or hear Spinelli's easily distinguished voice somewhere in the gloom.

"Somehow I am not unduly surprised," Higgins said with a chuckle, triumphant in their dual arrival at the bar. He gestured to a stool and waited for Jason to sit before he did. "Still, from what I have seen of your relationship, the boy takes his every cue from you. If you don't start enjoying yourself, at least somewhat, you'll deprive the lad of his chance to have some fun."

Jason started at that revelation from this stranger he had just met. Maybe there was more to this bald, rotund man than for which he had been prepared to give him credit. In addition to being a bit stodgy, it appeared that he was quite apt at reading people.

"A martini, dry with a twist and for you?" Higgins ordered from the barman as he then courteously inclined his head toward Jason. He correctly read the hesitation in Jason's expression, that he didn't want to be indebted to this stranger who, along with his companion, had already intruded into his and Spinelli's lives more than he was comfortable with... "I'm afraid you and young Spinelli will have to accept my hospitality this evening. It's a member's only association." He made the remark with an offhand practicality, knowing that it was the only way to phrase his offer so that Jason would accept it. He clearly had almost as much pride as Higgins himself, something that was a rarity in this day and age if Magnum was anyone to judge such things by.

Jason nodded briefly, his face shadowed in the half-lit bar, "I appreciate it. We'll make it up to you." Higgins could tell that he meant it. Unlike some of his other acquaintances who always made the gesture, yet never actually reciprocated.

"Certainly," he murmured graciously, recognizing the size of the concession represented by that concise response. "It's my honor to have you and the lad as my guests after the service you performed in retrieving what was so unceremoniously extracted while Magnum was off slavering over some pulchritudinous female instead of attending to his duty."

Jason actually laughed; it was a short abbreviated sound but most definitely a laugh. It was good to see that the man had a sense of humor at least. Jason was dumbfounded that he had somehow run across another person that sounded precisely like Spinelli in his speech patterns but who wasn't nearly as kind in his estimations of his fellow human beings or at least where Magnum was concerned. No, Higgins was not as innocent as Spinelli, a bit more worldly minded in his sensibilities, something Jason could relate to, even if the speech patterns were a bit beyond him.

Higgins' assessment of Magnum was just fine as Jason was concerned; actually it was balm to his unacknowledged wounded ego. He might have captured the elusive Lady Madonna but it was a poor trade when measured against the fact that Magnum seemed to have, and with great ease, ensnared Spinelli's admiration, maybe even his heart. So, if this Higgins man wished to spend their time together making disparaging remarks about the mustached freeloader, he Jason would be a receptive audience, might even join in himself without much prodding.

On his part, Higgins was surprised and rather pleased to find that this silent, stoic man seemed to have no trouble whatsoever in following his train of thought and what was even more telling-his verbal expression of that selfsame progression. 'How odd,' Higgins thought to himself, musing as to how that came about, 'Most peculiar really, most of the time Magnum stared at him dully, not understanding nearly half of what he said, it was odd that someone as pragmatic as Jason seemed to be would be able to follow his vocabulary as well as he appeared to be doing. Maybe it was just a fluke.'

"A beer, whatever you have on tap, would be good," Jason was speaking to the bartender as he added, "Also, an orange soda for my friend..."

Just then Magnum's less than dulcet tones could be heard approaching, signifying the return of the missing members of their party, "Look, Rick just because you don't get what the kid and I see in proudly wearing the national clothing of Hawaii, is no reason to try and turn him into a little mini you or even worse a little mini-Higg..." As he approached the bar, Magnum cut himself off and with a cheesy grin switched gears, saying "Hi, guys!"

"Getting comfy at the bar, I see," he twinkled at Higgins and tried an inclusive grin at Jason. His efforts failed miserably, neither man responded in kind. Jason just accepted his beer from the barman and took a testing gulp from it while Higgins merely stared at Magnum in stony, disapproving silence.

"Got an orange soda for you..." Jason had turned to Spinelli, all the while pointedly ignoring Magnum and his dogged overtures of friendship. He paused and stared at his young friend in disbelief. "What...what are you wearing?" He managed to choke out, desperately glad that he had swallowed the beer, for he knew without a doubt it would have come spitting out of him in shocked response to the sight meeting his astounded gaze.

Spinelli ducked his head and shuffled uncomfortably, disliking being the cynosure of all eyes, or at least all the eyes that currently mattered to him. Over their time together, Jason had seen Spinelli in many different outfits:plaid shirts with argyle sweaters, jeans and sweatshirts and even the occasional suit which Jason had to admit made him look - well - handsome, almost. The Aloha shirt and matching shorts as loud and colorful as they had been was in accord with Spinelli's taste in clothing, his exuberance and flair for life...but this, this was...it was just wrong.

Spinelli was dressed in duck cotton trousers with a pleat sharp enough to cut a finger on, he had on a navy blue polo shirt with a gold anchor over the left breast, he was wearing canvas boat shoes and a striped blue and white canvas belt with a brass buckle. Surmounting the whole ridiculous outfit was a Captain's hat adorning his head. It was tilted so far back it seemed poised to fall off at any moment and Jason fervently wished it might take that suicidal leap. What type of people had they fallen in with?

"I think the lad looks marvelous, well put together, very dapper," Higgins said bestowing an approving smile on the boy who was blushing as he looked up in silent dismay at his mentor's disapprobation.

"He looks like he's a young Hugh Hefner ready to go out on the Play Yacht with the Bunnies!" Magnum snorted in disgust. For the first time Jason felt a kinship with the thieving detective, he couldn't agree more. 'What the hell had they done to his Spinelli?'

"Hey, watch it!"

Jason swiveled his head to see who had spoken, he was glad to have an excuse to remove his eyes from his awkwardly squirming protégé.

"Who are you?" He asked the man bluntly, disliking him instantly. It was clear he was the responsible party for dressing his roommate like some sort of seafaring, preppy wannabee since he was wearing an identical outfit down to the Captain's hat which sat at a jaunty angle on his head. In addition he was wearing a blue blazer with another gold anchor over the breast pocket out of which peaked an immaculate white triangle of fabric. The man was short, and it was clear that was why they had raided his limited wardrobe to outfit poor Spinelli. He was glaring at Magnum and had missed Jason's less than polite query.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Magnum said sardonically, "Rick Wright this is Jason Morgan. Rick manages the King Kamehameha and as, I am sure you can tell, is the one who supplied the dry clothing for Spinelli."

"Yeah, and what's wrong with the clothes I provided, I'd like to know," he had blue eyes that were flashing angrily at Magnum and his posture indicated his naturally pugnacious attitude toward life which was so often embodied by vertically challenged men.

"Well," Magnum sighed, he really didn't want to get into one of _those _arguments with Rick right now. "Nothing, I guess..." he registered the deepening scowl on Rick's face and held up his hands in an appeasing gesture. "Look Rick, all I'm saying is that I don't think it's the kid's style that's all," he placated, "unless of course the kid really is a protégé of Hugh Hefner," he muttered sarcastically.

"I suppose you think he ought to walking around in one of those monstrosities you wear Magnum?" Higgins interjected unable to keep quiet any longer. "Where did you get that replacement one anyway?" He couldn't believe that Magnum was attired yet again in another Aloha shirt, this one colored in effulgent gold and orange.

"Magnum had Rick here keep some extra on hand, for situations just like this one, I guess, Higgy Baby," Jason couldn't believe his senses were so dulled by the events of the afternoon that he hadn't registered the presence of yet another man.

He was as tall as Magnum but infinitely more bulky and yet every ounce was pure muscle. He stepped out of the concealing shadows from where he had been watching his friends bicker and silently gauging the unknown quantity that was this stranger in their midst. "Hi, I'm Theodore Calvin, but everyone calls me T.C., the lone sane voice in this crew," he nodded back toward Rick and Magnum who were engaged in a glaring contest.

Jason liked him immediately; he had an open, genuine face and a disarming smile that showed a gap between his front teeth. His grip was firm but not overpowering, he was a man comfortable in his own skin and didn't need to prove anything. Jason felt an immediate kinship with him.

"Jason Morgan," he supplied, offering his hand. He looked back at Spinelli, who had been lost in all the competing voices and arguing and he jerked his head towards the adjacent bar stool where his orange soda waited patiently.

Spinelli moved forward with a relieved sigh, preferring to be next to his familiar Master's protective presence as he tried to come to terms with the mixed reaction to his appearance. He didn't much care for the outfit himself, but he was grateful for the effort expended on his behalf by Rick and peculiarly gratified by Higgins' approval of his appearance.

"Take that hat off," Jason hissed at him, and Spinelli complied happily, skimming it down the bar and away from him.

"Many gracious thanks, Stone Cold, for requisitioning the Jackal's libation of choice," Spinelli smiled exuberantly as he took a generous sip from the bottle.

Jason gave him a quirk of his lips that they both knew was his version of a, 'You're welcome,' smile. "Well, actually, you ought to thank Mr. Higgins, we're his guests at the moment."

Spinelli looked across Jason toward Higgins and said, "The Jackal is most appreciative for this unmerited opportunity to imbibe the restorative that is the nectar of the gods." He raised his bottle in a salute that Higgins returned by elevating his martini glass.

"So, Magnum says that you had a dinner engagement with a guest at the King Kamehameha." Rick had come up to Jason's shoulder as he was half turned on his bar stool.

"Yes, a..." and he felt idiotic saying it but it was the only name that Sonny had given him, " a Mr. Ice Pick, he's an acquaintance of a friend of ours back home."

A sudden and complete silence fell on the little group as every eye turned to Jason. He, in turn, stared back defiantly at all and sundry. Spinelli stirred uneasily on his stool next to Jason but stopped when Jason laid a light hand on his arm.

"Ice Pick," it was Rick, and he was looking at Jason with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

"You know him?" Jason asked, composed in voice. Yet, his body told a different story, coiled tight as a spring, he was ready to take on any and all comers to protect himself and Spinelli.

"Sure, I know him..." Rick admitted, "he's not here. He called earlier and said to tell his 'guests'," he looked in vague disbelief at Spinelli, before turning back to meet Jason's icy gaze with one almost as impenetrable, "he sends his apologies but he was called away on some unexpected 'business'. He instructed me to comp dinner for you and anyone you would care to invite, whatever you want."

Jason said, "Well, that's very kind of him but we couldn't impose further..." he had decided that he and Spinelli would go back to the hotel. He desperately needed to think, to contemplate and analyze everything that had occurred this evening.

"Stone Cold!" Spinelli was practically whining and Jason was just getting ready to silence him with a glare when he remembered with a pang of guilt the kid's fainting spell and the fact that he hadn't had anything to eat or drink but that orange soda, which was only halfway drunk, in uncounted hours.

"Can't we please eat here, the Jackal is both weary and famished," he was pleading, convinced that his stomach had shrunken to the size of a walnut. "We could invite all our newfound acquaintances to join us in a convivial repast..."

He was doing what Jason hated most, using his puppy dog eyes on him. He knew if he said no and started to leave that Spinelli would follow him obediently. He remembered, a bit belatedly as the image of Higgins crept into his peripheral vision, that this was a vacation and he should try and make sure that Spinelli had some sort of a good time.

"Sounds like a plan, come on guys, can we have that little private dining room in the back, Rick?" Magnum was back to his good-natured self, his little squabble with Rick forgotten and his interest in Jason's association with Ice Pick pushed down into the, 'revisit that later,' file in his brain.

"Magnum!" Higgins was outraged, utterly chagrined at the obnoxious man's poor etiquette, "You presume too much. I agree that Mr. Morgan and Mr. Spinelli ought to eat here at the King Kamehameha but to thrust our company upon them, well, it's just not done, man, don't you see?"

Spinelli was distressed almost to the point of tears, he was truly exhausted and he couldn't take another scene like this. He looked from one man to another, his expression showing his desire for them all to be amicable, to come together for at least one meal without an accompanying disagreement.

Each one saw the crumpled look on his face and it diminished each and every one of them; it took a boy to show them how they ought to behave as men. Suddenly they were all falling over themselves to make it better for him, to make him smile that shy, goofy grin that transformed his face.

"Yes, please have dinner with Spinelli and me, we'd like the company," Jason initiated the invitation quickly.

"Of course, if you insist," TC countermanded his earlier resolve not to join the mysterious pair.

"Of course, we don't want to intrude," Magnum grinned sheepishly, fully chastened after Higgins' scolding and that sorrowful look on Spinelli's face.

"Well, if the lad wants our company, we would be delighted," Higgins smiled magnanimously.

"Sure, kid, we've got some amazing Kobe beef out in the kitchen. I was saving it for Ice Pick's guests, guess I'm one of them now." Rick clasped his hands together, ever the host, he was eager to fix the problem that had left them all ill-at-ease.

"C'mon little guy, I'll show you where this super secret back room is..." it was TC leading off a much more cheerful Spinelli as the remaining four looked at one another in silent concert. They would make this an evening that Spinelli would enjoy, if not remember for a long time to come.

Spinelli looked around in wide-eyed wonder at the room TC had led him to. He was expecting something like the rooms tucked behind the Corinthos-Morgan warehouses down on Van Ness – smoke-filled rooms with green, shaded lamps hanging over round tables that were equally silent about the poker games they hosted or the occasional corpse that splayed across them, wide-eyed with an expression that seemed to say, 'Hey, no, this kinda of thing happens to the other guy...' – a last heartfelt protest against fate. Not that Spinelli had ever seen any such scene; neither Jason nor Sonny would have permitted it though for diametrically opposed reasons.

Yet, he had seen the unoccupied rooms and his fertile imagination, as it too often did, had taken off running. This entrancing chamber was to those seedy little rooms as Notre Dame was to a Vegas wedding chapel. He was immediately enthralled. It wasn't large but it was intimate-such a seductive, engaging word.

The furnishings were masculine – a red leather banquette around a circular polished heavy mahogany table. There was a bar against one wall with a gold speckled mirror behind it that reflected his and TC's images back upon themselves. He groaned inwardly as he caught sight of himself in his ridiculous faux nautical ensemble.

'Thank heavens, Stone Cold had commanded the Jackal to dispense with that inappropriate cap,' he thought to himself, wishing he were wearing an Aloha shirt like Magnum or rainbow colored suspenders like those that his current companion wore. 'Now those spoke to a certain careless joy de vivre in one's approach to everyday life,' he mused approvingly.

He turned from the mirror and continued his perusal of the intriguing supper room. The most startling feature, and the one that truly impressed upon him that he was no longer in snowy Port Charles, were the open French doors that framed a spectacular view. There was a small lanai directly outside the room; it was shaded by a pergola that was overburdened with tumbling falls of scarlet bougainvillea.

It was impossible to discern where the sky ended and the flowers began so perfectly did they meld with the slashes of crimson, peach, and burgundy that were splashed across the evening sky. He had never seen anything like it in his entire lifetime.

The sun was setting and, as he looked intently out at the horizon, he saw nothing but the wavering line where sky and sea met seamlessly. He gasped, he couldn't believe it. He stared out, his eyes aching as he made sure not to blink. It wouldn't be long, he knew. 'That is why they it called it a 'flash'', he thought in awe. It had come and gone and, in his exultation, there was an additonal bitter underlying flavor of melancholy such as is felt when a long-aspired dream is achieved and can no longer beckon one onwards.

"Did you see it?" TC spoke softly, almost reverently from beside him and, strange as it was, Spinelli was completely delighted that this moment had been shared only between the two of them and none of the others. It just seemed right. This large, gentle man and the young dreamer – together they had shared an experience they would tell future generations about. Spinelli turned and smiled at him, his hair falling messily over eyes that gleamed catlike in the room's dusk while the last fading colors of the sunset-draped sky painted his cheeks lavender.

"The green flash..." it sounded like a prayer, an invocation the way he whispered it as though noise would somehow undo the mystique of the moment. "The Jackal had thought...had hoped he might get the opportunity to see it but he knew the chances were slim and on his first night too..." He was overwhelmed.

"You're some kind of lucky all right, kid," TC was looking at him with awe. "I've lived here for years and that's only the second time I've seen it." There sure was something special about this kid, even the sunset seemed to hinge on his happiness.

"Seen what, what are people seeing while I'm not around to see it too?" Magnum entered the room, a jovial smile on his face, and the spell was broken. His humor, his bonhomie, chased the magic away out through the open doors; sent it forth to mingle with the tropic, quick-falling dusk and the soothing, never-ending dim roar of the surf.

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you," TC tilted his head as he continued to regard Spinelli as though the young man were an alien he had just found on what had previously been considered an uninhabited planet.

"Try us," it was Jason and he wasn't about to indulge in people seeing things that made Spinelli look dazed and disoriented and had even seemed to shake solid, reliable TC. Nope, not on his watch. He wanted to know exactly what they had seen and whether or not he needed to do something about it.

Spinelli shook himself like a sleepwalker suddenly awakening. He registered the new arrivals to the room with a vague awareness; his main focus was on Jason and what he was compelled to share with him. But, for once in his life, he could not seem to find the right words. It had been so overwhelmingly beautiful and was beyond the ken of mere mortal words.

Shaking himself, as if from a drug-induced stupor, he turned to his Master, "I saw it, Stone Cold! The Jackal actually saw it!" He was in an excitable state and his eyes shone with a feverish brightness that made Jason go on full alert. Something had happened to Spinelli and he would be damned if he didn't do something about it.

It was disconcerting to everyone in the room except Spinelli, who hardly even noted it, to see Jason Morgan assume his full fledged, 'Stone Cold,' persona. He turned his steely, ice-blue eyes around the room and said in a low, controlled voice that was tinged with menace, "Saw what, who was here? Are they out there?"

He stepped toward the lanai, putting himself in between Spinelli and the open doors, not liking how vulnerable he felt without a weapon. He was uncomfortable being amongst so many unknown quantities that represented the assorted men contained in the small space. It was much too small a space for so many men; any one of them could pull a weapon in the amount of time it took to take a single breath and Spinelli or he could be lying face down in a cooling pool of blood. No, he did not like these odds at all.

"Hey, Jason," naturally it was Magnum who spoke. He foolishly stepped forward to try and reason with him. "Just chill why..." in a matter of seconds he was on the floor with Jason's boot pressed firmly against his neck and had no memory how he had gotten there.

"I say, there's no call for that type of brutish behavior..." Higgins stepped forward, only to stop abruptly as it occurred to him that it was that self-same action which had placed Magnum is his current state of prone discomfiture.

"Hey, get off him," TC was stepping toward the fierce man who had pinioned his friend like he was a ninety-eight pound weakling.

"Get off him, you goon, before I call security," Rick ground out.

Magnum himself only managed a strangled, "Hey..." as he reached up with both hands and tried to remove the crushing pressure from his trachea. It was getting difficult to breathe.

All protests were spoken to no avail. Jason was unreachable. He had entered survival mode and it was only the quiet, "Stone Cold, you must release the Intrepid Investigator at once," which managed to penetrate his ice- cold carapace.

He looked over at Spinelli and then down at the ground. He was shocked to realize what he had done. It had been pure reflex. He had not been fully conscious of his actions. Magnum, face turning a blotchy red, lay face down on the floor. His boot, which Spinelli had tried in vain to dissuade him from wearing, was pressed firmly against the back of the man's neck, effectively cutting off his ability to breathe in an uninhibited manner.

He stepped back and reached down to help up a choking, gasping Magnum to his feet. His offer of aid was rejected as Magnum weakly batted his hand away. TC bent down and pulled his coughing, red-faced comrade up.

Jason was fully contrite, he tried again, stepping towards Magnum who was leaning on the bar, wheezing as his airway began to realize it was once again open for business. "I'm sorry Magnum...I just...I'm sorry." It was all he could say. He couldn't say how he hadn't even been in the room; that he had already been out in the night, armed against any enemies that might attack him or Spinelli. The man would never, could never understand. No, not someone like Magnum who had obviously never had to fight against dark forces that wanted to rip his very soul from him.

Yet, as he turned to go, to leave the room, the club, these men's' lives with which his and Spinelli's existences had so briefly overlapped and with whom he had felt an unexpected kindred spirit, he felt a weak hand pulling on his shirt urging him to stop as best it could.

"Hey," it was only a gasp but it was almost more than he could manage, "You were doing it for the kid, right?" He sounded like a ninety year old man with a seventy year smoking habit and a bad case of bronchitis to boot.

Jason stopped and turned to look at Magnum, there was no one else in the room except for the two of them at the moment, "Yes, and I would do it all over again." It was a factual statement that covered so much buried emotion that it was almost painful to hear.

"Yeah," he croaked, wondering if he could eat that steak after all, but he sure as hell was going to give it a try-Kobe beef! "Me too..." It was the most he could manage, but the straightforward sincerity that shone out of his eyes was enough proof to convince Jason.

He nodded his head in tight acceptance and his posture relaxed fractionally for the first time since the two had crossed paths an hour ago. "I believe you." He said in simple recognition of their newfound bond predicated on the well being of the young man standing a few feet away waiting with bated breath as he hoped for a miracle that would enable him to stay in the orbit of both of these men whom he admired so much.

The four spectators were relieved and unexpectedly touched as Jason and Magnum shook hands. They collectively exhaled as the tension, which had permeated the air of the crowded room, gradually dissipated.

Rick recovered first, "What say we get this party going? I'll go tell the chef to get the steaks on the grill and get a barman in here to take our drink orders." He turned to leave, finally understanding what Jason Morgan and Ice Pick could have in common but still puzzling over where Spinelli might fit into the picture.

"Excellent idea, shall we seat ourselves?" Higgins had taken over the hosting duties and they fit him as naturally as a second skin as he ushered everyone toward the red leather banquette.

"You sure you're okay, man?" TC looked Magnum over worriedly as the normally animated man rubbed at his aching throat and shuffled slowly after Higgins.

"Yeah, just remind me never to get on his actual bad side," he was able to once again speak but his voice was hoarse and strained, and, though he winced from the effort, he managed one of his patented smiles.

"So, what is it you did see if it wasn't a person?" Jason was uncomfortable with his actions but he knew that his ability to respond so immediately to real or perceived danger is what had kept him alive all these years and he would be damned if he stopped looking out for Spinelli now.

"The green flash," Spinelli's voice was a mere whisper. He had almost forgotten the cause of the misunderstanding. Now the memory was stained with the Jason's attack on Magnum. Unique as it was, it hadn't been worth a man's life.

"The what?" Now Jason was irritated and felt foolish. If this was one of Spinelli's comic book heroes that had gotten them into this mess, he and the kid were going to have a talk pronto. If he had nearly killed a man over some newfangled super hero, so help him god, Spinelli was going to have a talking to.

"You saw it?" Higgins was looking at Spinelli with something akin to amazement.

Even Magnum's jaw dropped as he was pulled out his self-pitying misery, "The green flash!" He would've yelled but the best his larynx could manage was a strangled squeak. He turned accusingly toward Higgins, "I've never seen it, not once, not after hundreds of sunsets on the estate, on this very beach out there," he gestured weakly as he waved toward the lanai which was now clothed in the inky black of night. Pouting, he sank morosely into the comforting embrace of the banquette.

"I remember once, when I was on a reconnaissance mission over the Pacific...." Higgins started.

"Higgy-Baby," TC implored him on behalf of his defenseless friend, "not now, I don't think Thomas can bear to hear one more green flash story."

Jason was beginning to share that sentiment. He still had no idea what they were talking about. "What is it?" He asked while Magnum groaned and, folding his arms, put his head down on the tabletop as though completely defeated.

"It's a most intriguing phenomenon..." Higgins started to say at the exact same moment Spinelli chimed in with, "The green flash is a rare and ephemeral..." One of them was enough to give Jason a headache, now it appeared that there were two Spinellis and he wasn't sure if he could handle it. He rubbed at the throb which had started a rumba in his temple.

They stopped and stared at each other, nothing resembling this in the slightest had ever happened to either one of them before. Meanwhile, Jason sank down next to Magnum and, shoving him with his shoulder, forced him to scoot over. They exchanged commiserating looks of pure understanding about the torture they underwent on a daily basis. "Stereo," Jason muttered.

"There're two of them," Magnum moaned, "just when I thought I was safe."

TC just stood there in complete bemusement until he started to laugh, "Higgy-Baby, I think you've finally met your match!"

Spinelli and Higgins turned toward him in perfect synchronicity and they said in uncomprehending unison, "Whatever do you mean?"

TC went off into uncontrollable gales of laughter while Magnum and Jason hunkered down at the table and tried to think of sizzling, scintillating, seared steaks grilled to perfection and meat that practically melted in your mouth.

Rick returned to a room gone mad, TC was wiping tears of hilarity from his eyes as he held his aching belly, Spinelli and Higgins had moved to the opposite side of the table from Magnum and Jason and were entering into a lively discussion about the green flash and the different atmospheric conditions required for its occurrence. Spinelli was dazzled when Higgins said that he had encountered the green flash around twenty times in his life.

Meanwhile, Magnum and Jason were discussing different types of disarmament moves. Jason was promising to teach Magnum the one he had used on him just a short while ago which still had the private investigator absentmindedly rubbing his throat every now and again.

Rick felt as though he had missed out on something crucial, but all he said after looking around was, "Steak'll be up in a couple of minutes...what can Frank here get you all to drink?"

Just like that, the separate camps broke apart and everyone came together. All previous animosity was forgotten as they were served drinks and salads. Jason felt another twinge of guilt as he watched Spinelli inhale his plate of greens that he would usually disdain to touch, 'Maybe I should starve the kid more often to get him to eat better...' he thought wryly.

Then, finally, they arrived, carried in on a covered platter by the chef who was unwilling to let anyone else near the prized beef.

They had only been allowed to express a preference that ranged from rare to medium, there was to be no well done for these beauties. He had his standards and, if the Philistines couldn't manage to acquiesce to them, well he had a nice Mahi Mahi they could have as a consolation prize. Naturally, no one had opted for the fish. The room was silent as the meal was devoured with the obeisance it demanded as its birthright.

Finally, when everyone was satiated, and Magnum had, as per expectation, belched, gaining an impressed grin from Jason and an outraged glare from Higgins, the plates were removed and Rick announced that there would be a hiatus before dessert to allow them to digest their bountiful repast.

"Better?" Jason asked Spinelli, reaching over to affectionately rumple his hair; he had been almost drifting off. His stomach full and his body jet-lagged, his eyelids had begun to droop. He had never felt so tired in his life.

He sat up startled and looked around the table blearily, "Not asleep, Stone Cold, the Jackal wasn't asleep..." he trailed off, embarrassed as he realized once again that all eyes were on him, this time they were accompanied by amused grins.

"Of course you weren't kid," Magnum's voice was better, just a little rasp remained, reminding them of earlier. He tried to bridge the awkward silence that had descended upon them all, "So, how did you guys end up in Hawaii? Isn't the Caribbean or Mexico a more natural destination for Easterners?"

Spinelli just looked down at the table, the tips of his ears visibly pink. Jason grinned wickedly as he looked at his protégé's bent head. "Spinelli won a contest..."

"Get out of here! What contest was that?" It was TC trying to encourage the kid to look up. Something about the kid's green eyes and their shared moment before all hell had broken loose had endeared the youngster to him.

Spinelli mumbled something incoherently, surreptitiously shooting Jason a glare through his matted bangs. 'Why did Jason have to ruin the entire evening by bringing that up?' He groaned to himself, the Kobe beef turning in his decidedly anxious stomach. 'If only it weren't so embarrassing.'

"What was that lad, speak up won't you?" Higgins leaned closer, straining to hear what Spinelli was mumbling.

"C'mon, Spinelli, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Jason poked him and Spinelli leaned away irritably, still refusing to raise his head, now shooting dangerous glares at his mentor.

"Kid," it was Magnum, speaking gently, "we're all your friends here; we won't make fun of it, whatever it is." He smiled kindly and was rewarded when Spinelli lifted his green eyes to meet his.

Jason felt a sharp spasm of annoyance as that did the trick and Spinelli looked up, his face still flushed. "The Jackal wrote a jingle for Hawaiian Punch," he answered shyly, still a bit uncertain about whether or not Magnum would keep his promise.

"That's cool!" The sincerity evident in Magnum's voice brought a reluctant smile to Spinelli's lips as he realized they hadn't responded with cruel ripostes as he had half-expected.

"How's it go?" Rick asked. He was genuinely curious and wondered if it had been aired yet. If it had, he was sure to have heard it. He had a friend in the advertising business.

Spinelli was shaking his head vehemently, once again painfully shy. "No, no the Jackal shan't spoil a lovely evening with painful examples of his dilettantism," he stammered out, once again lowering his eyes to the tabletop.

"It can hardly be considered thus if you won an all expense paid vacation to the tropical paradise that is Hawaii," Higgins pointed out in an eminently reasonable tone. "Besides it appears that we will be hearing it one way or t'other since the company will start using it in their advertising, no?" He looked expectantly at Spinelli who gave a tiny nod of agreement. "Then I think a rousing call of auteur, auteur is indicated..."

He looked around the table and the others took their cue, picking up their silverware and pounding it on the table while they called out variously, "Jingle Jangle us" or "Sing out Spinelli". Even Jason got caught up in the moment and pounded a knife and a fork on the table, feeling vaguely foolish all the while…

_**A/N Reviews and perceptions are appreciated**_


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